I remember this about September 11, 2001: I felt very lonely.
It was my senior year of veterinary school. My husband, who had only been my husband for about 2 months, was far away in San Diego. My mother was the one who called me, waking me up to tell me to turn on the news. She was alone too, as my father was on a rare business trip in Texas, one he ended up having to drive home from. We held the phones to our ears together until there was nothing more to do, so I said, well, I guess I ought to go to school.
I was doing a rotation in a lab that week, spending my day alone in a dark basement underneath the medical school looking at slides. Every few minutes I’d wander upstairs where I could get radio reception, and the other lab denizens would join me for a few minutes before we retreated back down to our holes.
Later that afternoon, after I returned home, there was a knock on the door. It was two nicely dressed missionaries. “How are you?” they asked.
“Not so great,” I said.
“Why?” they asked, genuinely concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” I asked. They shook their heads in confusion. I shut the door.
Behind me, Nuke gently pressed his head into my hip. I had adopted him the year before, thanks to my friend Dan. “I want a dog,” I had said. “A Golden, maybe, or a pug.”
“I have just the dog!” he said, before referring me to the radiology department and the 10 year old coonhound who had been getting irradiated on a weekly basis as the vet students learned how to take films.
“He’s not housebroken and doesn’t know what outside is, so he’s a little addled. If it doesn’t work out, it’s ok,” said the tech. “They were going to euthanize him so I figured, I’d give it a shot.” No pressure.
He was a little addled. He was the dumbest dog I’ve ever had. He was neurotic and howled if he was outside for more than 2 minutes because he was scared of open spaces. He refused to learn ‘sit’. I loved him.
In those long and sad days after September 11, he was my greatest comfort. He died of cancer shortly after I graduated the following year. I miss him.
This Sunday marks National Pet Memorial Day. I hope you’ll join me in thinking of those we lost, or sharing a memory below. They leave this earth but they never leave our hearts.
I know how you feel. I lost my cat 6 years ago and I’ve never forgotten her. She was my comfort. She would hop into bed with me when I went in to either lay down to sleep or watch a little tv. It took me almost 4 years before we got another ct. I miss her being. The new cat isn’t as loving, but she starting to come around somewhat. She’ll jump into bed with me, but won’t snuggle like Cleo would when we went to bed. Oh well. Love your blog, in fact you were the first blog I would read on a regular basis. Keep on writing.
I miss my Bumper. She was our first small dog and weighed about 15 lbs. From the day we got her it was a comedy of errors! From the Humane Society “Oh, could you bring her back in, we forgot to give her a rabies shot” and “her owner says she has siezures but we haven’t been giving her the medicine and we haven’t seen any (yeah, I doubt you spent the night), to our vet “oh, that’s not supposed to come out her nose (hole in her sinus) she was our walking talking Bumper baby. I miss her still.
I had to put my beloved horse down that same week of 9/11. It certainly added to the sadness of the week. He was a good horse and he was with an amazing vet who gave me permission to go ahead and let him go and not make him endure useless medical treatments that would make him miserable and in the end not save him. I love that vet for that. (He had a squamous cell carcinoma that had already eaten a hole in the roof of his mouth.)
As far as the memory of my 4-legged first child…. he didn’t go the way I had discussed with God on many occasions. I still miss him and am thankful for the place he has in my heart
Huh. I thought there would have been many responses to this post. Although it makes me cry, again, I miss my good doggy who I lost 6 1/2 months ago. Bless her little occasionally-annoying, drama-queen, never-stopped jumping-on-visitors heart. My best dog ever, who has left such a big hole in my life…and I never thought I would miss poop patrol in the back yard. I love you, sweetheart.